


Res Ipsa Loquitor

by missEsquire



Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missEsquire/pseuds/missEsquire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd had enough of this, this restlessness, this... feeling! How could he allow himself the title of best closer in the city if he couldn't even close her? He had to stake his claim...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Seeing for the First Time

Seeing for the First Time.

The first time he'd felt the surge was the time 'Mr Perfect' read the ex- husband, had come looking for help. He'd touched her, kissed her hands and she'd smiled, actually smiled! She hadn't seemed uncomfortable or even irritated, which was her usual reaction to someone unpleasant. He thought he'd had an apoplexy, hell; he couldn't touch her like that! He didn't need reminding of the last time his brain temporarily shut down when they touched.

It had been five months before, a Thursday night, they were at the finish line with a huge class action against a hospital that didn't seem to want to treat a certain type of patient no matter how good their credit, or how deep their pockets. It was the final sprint and they'd been pulling fifteen hour work days, well technically Jessica had, his were more around the thirteen or twelve hour mark. The associates' bull pen had developed an unpleasant musk in the air from the number of all nighters most of them had been pulling.

But I digress; the pressure was so much that Jessica had just appeared in his office and without a word, plopped down one of his chairs. She sat looking at his collection of record, seemingly spaced out. He'd looked at her for close to a minute and decided to go back to work when she still hadn't uttered word, sometimes with Jessica you could only wait. That time he didn't wait long.

"An old fashioned would be great right about now," she said resting her gaze on him.

"O'Reilly's?" he asked an eyebrow quirking up. It was this obscure place they'd found together, their hideout of sorts... they'd be just two high powered New York attorneys in a forgettable bar having a totally unforgettable time.

"You're the disease and I'm the cure," she said a twinkle in her eye.

"This is where the law stops and I start," he replied, smirking, as he leaned back in his chair. "This is going to be fun," he continued, slipping on his jacket as they stood to leave, "Cobra and a good ol' fashioned." They walked to her office so she could get her purse, going back and forth with other Stallone classics.

By the time they'd gotten down to their fifth drink Jessica had totally relaxed, her jacket off, she was tucked away with her feet under her, all nice and cozy in the booth and he realised just how much they'd needed the break. He'd rolled up his sleeves, beginning to warm up as soon as he'd taken his drink.

"I think we might be taking this break a little too seriously," Harvey had said, face straight as an arrow and they both burst into laughter.

"Says my single most pain-in-the-ass employee," she had said still laughing, the warmth of it wrapping around him and engulfing him much more than the alcohol coursing steadily through his veins.

"I remind you of Louis," he'd countered with his most convincing attempt at puppy dog eyes. His mind started to wonder to how much he'd love to make her melt with just_

"Harvey, did you hear what I said?" she'd asked her eyes glued to him, a look of mild annoyance flashing across her face. This is what he loved about their little sojourns to this bar, her ability to really relax here so that he could see the faintest traces of emotions flitting across her face.

She had said his name again more insistent the second time. He remembered having to consciously stop the wheels in his mind from turning.

"Ah I think we should call it a night," he'd said, embarrassed as usual at the fact that he seemed to be such a lightweight compared to her.

"Pussy," she'd mouthed at him then said aloud, "since I expect you bright and early tomorrow I guess it's only fair I let you get your beauty sleep," with a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Her lips had been stained red, most of the glossy part on the rim of her tumbler, and he'd gone down the road of how it might feel to be that rim, how soft and moist they would_

"Okay we need to go now," he'd said standing up and turning back to get his jacket, having forgotten it in his haste to leave to get away.

Then it happened.

She'd reached out a perfect hand to grasp his arm.

His sleeves still rolled up, he'd felt the perfect softness of her skin against his own, her palm not cold, sweaty or clammy but warm and inviting. He'd been transfixed by the sight, her beige skin contrasting perfectly with his.

He'd raised his eyes to hers and that was it.

He had no other weakness than the depths of her eyes. It was his quicksand but even though he didn't struggle he was always consumed so absolutely by them and the thought of kissing her was forming in his mind, growing reaching its tentacles further into his mind...

"Harvey we need to get the bill," she'd said then removed her hand to get her things too. The hand on his arm had been there no more than ten seconds and he hadn't breathed during any of them. He'd first tried to blame it on the The Macallan but he'd known deep down inside.

He was in trouble.


	2. Double Vision

He remembered vividly the night Quentin came. What stood out most like a sore thumb for him was the offhanded way she’d treated the matter. He didn’t give a hoot that she was taking on a case that seemed impossible to win, he liked those... it made the victory all the sweeter when it eventually came. What he did in fact care about was the fact that she didn’t seem to think he was privileged enough to know about her marriage.

He hated being kept out of the loop, it was literally his job to know things about people that most people didn’t. But she wasn’t even most people, she was Jessica Pearson, his mentor, his best friend, his adviser and his... muse? Yes definitely his deeply enigmatic muse. His study of her was enjoyable and definitely a work in progress... After peeling back a number of layers he’d finally thought he was close to the core, the essence of all that made her; but this, this marriage-thing was a curveball of epic proportions.

The daze he’d been in after her big reveal had lasted long enough for her to get in an elevator before he could catch up to her. After the fog though, a deep sense of betrayal had settled on him and he couldn’t justify the feeling. Jessica had not been his ‘betrothed’ (he couldn’t resist the dramatic appropriateness of the antiquated word) nor had she ever promised she’d tell him all the details of her life. In fact as she’d so readily pointed out the following morning, that privacy was an integral part of how they functioned, how they fused into the unstoppable force that they were. 

He’d left soon after her, let Ray off deciding a walk would do him some good, he could clear his head. That’s when he’d thought about the present. He then wondered how many presents they’d gotten. He could even imagine her sceptically looking at some of the more ridiculous ones they opened when they were Mr and Mrs Sainz alone in their home for the first time.

He’d then thought about how she might’ve looked on that day, what dress she’d picked, the shoes, her makeup... She was so gorgeous on any given day, whether dressed for work, night out or a casual day at home that he knew she must’ve been a vision. She’d be breathtaking, the happiness exuding from her highlighting her beautiful features. Knowing her she probably wouldn’t have opted for the ‘Cinderella’ ball gown type, probably something sleekly form fitting, just enough to hint at her curves. He’d briefly imagined standing at the end of the aisle waiting for her, she was ethereal seeming to float down the aisle toward him smiling and giggling, but he just couldn’t quite wrap his head around it, couldn’t really see himself there. 

Jessica had been amused, and rightfully so she believed, at Harvey’s bewildered expression. He looked the kid who’d prematurely found out that Santa didn’t really exist. Her amusement, however, failed to carry forward to the next day. 

He’d been flustered by her question as to whether he was seeing anyone mostly because for a moment he’d thought it was a genuine question and that could only mean... but it hadn’t been. She’d been so close, then that night closer still... He’d put down his distraction to the confusion clouding his mind as to why she didn’t seem to trust him. She trusted him to be her kick-ass closer and business confidante but not her... friend? (No they were definitely friends, they’d had drinks, in a bar, alone, together; she’d taken his nachos at that game. Yeah they were friends) 

So what more did he want them to be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so utterly floored by these two!! The chemistry!! Gah!!


End file.
